


Cultivation

by mithrel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blanket Permission, Fluff, Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale wants plants in the bookshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultivation

Crowley stared at the withered yellow plant sitting on a table in Aziraphale’s bookshop. “Angel, what on Earth is _that?!_ ”

Aziraphale looked at it somewhat sheepishly. “I thought it might brighten up the place, but it doesn’t seem to be doing too well.”

Crowley looked at the two small windows into the bookshop, which were covered with dust, and sighed. “Angel, you can’t have a plant in here. There’s no sunlight. If you want plants get some window boxes.”

Aziraphale nodded meekly. “All right.”

***

The next time he came to the bookshop he saw that there was a window box underneath each of the windows, but nothing was growing in them. “So you got the window boxes.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, looking so mournful that Crowley knew there was more to the story.

“What are you going to plant in them?” he prompted.

“I already planted something,” Aziraphale said miserably.

“Oh? When was this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “They should have sprouted by now.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I don’t understand it. I followed all the instructions–found flowers that would grow in that amount of sunlight, planted them at the right depth, gave them the right amount of water…”

Crowley rolled his eyes. It just figured that Aziraphale would have a black thumb. “Tell you what, angel. How about I get them started for you and you could take it from there.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Oh, _would_ you? I’m not getting anywhere with them, and you have such a gift with plants.”

Crowley snorted at him, completely unaffected by the smile. Really. “At least if you’re occupied with this it will keep you from coming up with any other mad schemes.”

Aziraphale looked affronted. “Dearest, I don’t _scheme!_ ”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “And what about your plan to open a soup kitchen, hmmm?”

Aziraphale blushed. “All right, perhaps that could have been better thought out–”

“Angel, three people were hospitalised and the Health Department was called in!”

“Yes, well…” And Crowley didn’t find anything at all adorable about the way the angel was blushing, since he was a demon, and demons didn’t even know the meaning of words like “adorable.”

“Buy some more seeds, and I’ll plant them for you.”

“Thank you, dearest.”

***

Three days later Aziraphale gave him some petunia seeds, Crowley read the packet and planted them. When Aziraphale had gone back into the bookshop, Crowley leaned over the window boxes and hissed, “Listen, you little bastards. If you don’t sprout and grow on time I will make you regret it, you hear me?”

He took to dropping by the bookshop fairly often after that, and every time he talked to the plants. Aziraphale was always happy to see him. He had no idea that Crowley was…encouraging the plants to grow. Crowley could only imagine his reaction if he found out.

Crowley occasionally wondered why he was going to so much trouble, but Aziraphale wanted the plants, and there was no harm in helping him.

A week after he’d planted the seeds they sprouted. After that he wasn’t able to continue threatening them, since Aziraphale was usually looking after them. But he noticed that they seemed to be doing quite well, thriving in fact. The flowers were bigger than his spread hand, and the vines were trailing on the ground. They almost looked better than his own plants, which he would never admit to anyone.

“Your plants seem to be doing well,” he commented to Aziraphale over tea one day.

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Do you think so?”

“What are you doing, anyway? Fertilising them?”

“Oh no! I just talk to them.”

“ _Talk_ to them,” Crowley repeated incredulously.

The angel nodded. “I tell them how nice they’re looking, and how glad I am that they’re doing well, that sort of thing.”

Crowley snorted incredulously. They shouldn’t be doing better than his plants if all Aziraphale was doing was telling them how good they were. That shouldn’t make a difference.

But as Aziraphale refilled his cup he realized that it did make sense after all.

It had worked on him, after all.


End file.
